Fading
by ThoseWhoDon'tBelong
Summary: During the year 2014, Castiel is struggling with sleep. The only way to get a night's rest - without the constant threat of nightmares - is by popping pills. Dean doesn't approve. T for strong language and drug usage.


Castiel leaned back in his cot that, crossing his arms behind his head, staring up at the wooden ceiling. It was early, three in the morning now, but he wasn't tired. Nightmares plagued his sleep. They were relentless. Every time he managed to doze they were mercilessly jar him out of his slumber. He had quickly discovered that he needed to drink himself to sleep. Not yet though.

It was nearly seven in the morning when Castiel sat up. There was a good deal of people already awake – he could hear them walking around outside his little cabin, but for the most part it was quiet. He kicked off his sheet, stepping over to his right wall. Nothing. Dean was still asleep. Good. He didn't have to get up and moving unless Dean did. He still had time to get some rest.

Castiel kneeled down and pulled out a shoebox from under his cot, the same one he kept all his pill bottles in. He picked out a particularly strong bottle. His dreams were bad the night before. The fallen angel knew the number of pills he had to get a good high. He would just have to take a few more than that amount to be put into a deep sleep.

So, he began. Castiel popped the first, white pill in. Then the next, then the next. He downed his correct amount within a minute, then began to add the extra ones. His mind was growing fuzzy faster than expected though. He couldn't think anymore. His body was running like a machine. Take a pill, put it in the mouth, swallow, repeat. Take a pill, put it in the mouth, swallow, repeat. It wasn't until the bottle was empty did blackness creep from his peripheral vision and take over.

"Cass!" Was the next thing the fallen angel heard, then felt his body being jarred. He was too far gone though. His body was numb, his eyes blank, his mind clean. He was in heaven – his own heaven. Finally. There was someone trying to pull him out though.

Hands were grabbing his face, pulling his jaw down to open his mouth. Another finger travelled in, down his throat. Then he was back.

Castiel flew up suddenly, emptying his stomach on his night shirt and the wooden floor below him. The taste filled his mouth and the bile burned his throat. By the time he was finished, his breath were coming out in heavy pants. That was the first time he noticed he hand moving in small circles on his back.

"You with me, man?" The familiar, rough voice asked. Dean. It was Dean. Castiel slowly looked up at the man kneeling above him, pain and fear flooding his eyes. All Castiel could bring himself to do was nod though, blinking dizzily. Then, a hand shot up, swatted him in the back of the head. It sent a wave of pain through his head and made him realize he had a terrible headache. "What the hell were you thinking? What did I tell you?" Castiel body was suddenly being jerk up, so he was forced to his knees. The fuzzy silhouette of the hunter was in front of him. He was _pissed._

"Is he okay?" Another voice asked from the door. It wasn't as harsh as Dean's. It sounded more concerned than angry. This was Chuck.

"He's fine." Dean growled. The hands of the hunter cupped under the fallen angel's armpits to pick him up and laid him back on his cot, tilting his head to the side so he wouldn't choke on his vomit if he had to get anymore out. "He needs to sleep it off. I'm telling you, if he –" Castiel decided to drop his focus from the two talking at that. He wanted hear no more. Soon, he faded off into his sleep.

Castiel was out for at least a good two hours. His sleep was light and uneasy, but it was not plagued with night terrors. That's what counted. When his eyes opened, his sight was steady, no long the fuzzy blobs he saw when first waking.

"Cass." Dean grunted from his right. The fallen angel only returned a low groan as he sat up, rubbing his eyes. He leaned against the wall that stood behind his cot. With a glance to the ground, he saw that the vomit had been cleaned. That on his shirt had not though. "_Cass."_

"What?" Castiel voice was a bit raspier than normal, maybe a bit harsher as well. Even with his few hours of sleep, if felt as though he had gotten not a moment of it. His foggy blue eyes shifted up to, Dean, seeing how angry he still was. He knew what he was in for just by the look on his face.

"Do you have any idea how stupid that was?" Was all Dean spat out. He looked like he wanted to scream though. He couldn't though because, addict or not, this was his angel and the closest thing he had to a friend.

Castiel's face burned hot with shame. Dean had one rule when he started up on drugs: Don't overdose. This was the closest he had ever gotten to it. He would have been dead within the hour if Dean hadn't come. Of course, Castiel knew this, still though, he played ignorance. "I don't know what you're talking about…"

"Cass, don't you _dare!_" Dean countered as Castiel looked down. "No, you look at me!" And so, Castiel did, peaking up at his friend and leader that sat a few feet away. "Cass, when I came to get you, I thought you were dead! Do you get why I'm pissed now? Or are you still to stoned to even understand me?" Castiel visibly flinched at this, but remained silent. "So, you want to tell me why the hell you took so many? What? You opting out now? Giving up?"

"No…" Castiel mumbled, considering just stopping there, but by the looks of Dean's face, he didn't think that was an option. "I couldn't sleep."

"Then why didn't you take a few sleeping pills?"

Castiel had tried sleeping pills before. They didn't stop the dreams. They were still vivid and horrifying. He would wake soon after, but then there was the unending groggy sensation that would last until the pills finally wore off. Only the strong drugs could really put him out. Castiel hadn't told Dean about the dreams yet and didn't want to so he answered with a half-hearted shrug.

"Cass…" Dean's voice was a warning. There was no telling what he would do when this angry, but he didn't want to find out. Maybe telling his dreams to Dean wouldn't be so bad. Dean was who he was closest to after all.

"I've been having nightmares." Castiel finally uttered. It was difficult to tell, but he could have sworn he saw Dean's expression soften, if not just a little. "About you. About Lucifer. About living in general." Anything and everything use to terrified Castiel when he had first fallen, which is why he took all the drugs and downed the booze. In the past two years he had completely broke himself and a broken man had nothing to fear… Except for continuing to live through the suffering. It was true, Castiel had lost the will to live. He could die tonight and be perfectly fine with it, but he couldn't opt out because of Dean. Dean was still here, counting on him. Dean was his only reason to keep breathing.

But did Dean really need him? He was an ex-angel, a bad shot with a gun, an even worse driver and constantly stoned. He was holding the group back. That was just coming clear to him now. "So, maybe it's better if you move on without me." Castiel went on. "You would accomplish more if I didn't drag behind you."

He didn't know how Dean would take the offer, but he had immediately wished he sucked the words back up because a fist flew, connecting with his lower cheek and sending another spike of pain through him. There would be a bad bruise there soon. "What the fuck is the matter with you? I come in here to save your life and this is what you offer to me? Cass, if I wanted you dead I would have left you to die!"

Castiel mouth was dry, yet he tried to swallow, again having the urge to not look Dean in the eye. His own eyes were beginning to burn, overcome with shame. Shame of overdosing and shame of giving up. He look away as the tears began to brim his eyes. Only did they spill over though when he felt the hand – gentle now – sooth the spot it had just harmed. "Cass, never leave, do you understand me? Fight until the very end, because if you go, I'm goin' with you."

The lump in Castiel's throat prevented him from uttering any words, so he nodded stiffly, scrubbing the tears off his face as the hand was removed. After a few blink and sniffs, most of the signs of crying – other than his bloodshot eyes –were gone and he looked back up at Dean who had a rag and bucket of water to the side of him, obviously used to clean up his mess. The hunter leaned forward, holding the rag and began to scrub the collar of his shirt clean. Soon, the vomit was replaced with nothing but a damp spot. "Cass."

"Hm?"

"Get some sleep, okay?"

Castiel frowned deeply, looking back up at him with anxious eyes. Dean turned to him and promised, "Don't worry. I'm going to sit right here next to you. If you have any more of those dreams I'll wake you up. You need to sleep now though." Castiel couldn't argue with this. He leaned back down resting his head on his pillow and allowing the world around him to fade to black.


End file.
